“Well, go and change them out of that into the small drawing-room. Or, wait a minute. It may be easier to move Miss Blow. Go and put her into the big drawing-room along with the other three. Then shut the door and leave them. Do you think you can manage that, Wilkins?”
“I could try, my lord.”
“Very well. Go and try. And if you succeed, don’t go to them again until they’ve rung the bell at least a dozen times.”
“Certainly not, my lord.”
“It’s rather hard on a man of my age,” said Lord Manton, “to be hunted out of my own house in this way by a lot of strange women. I’m not blaming you, Goddard. All the same, if you had been reasonable about Miss Blow we wouldn’t be in the position we are. Now, of course, there’s nothing for it but to fly. It’s very undignified for me, being a peer and that sort of thing. It will also, I’m afraid, be most uncomfortable. I mind that much more than the humiliation. But there’s nothing else for it. If I stay here they’ll catch me sooner or later.”
“What will you do?”
“I shall get out a horse and trap if I can without being noticed. I shall drive down to the station, and lie hid in the ticket office until the next train is due. Then I shall go to London. You’d better come with me.”
Lord Manton’s idea was to reach the stable-yard by way of the servants’ quarters, so as to avoid passing the doors of either the big or the small drawing-room. To do this from the library it was necessary to go along a corridor and then cross an angle of the central hall off which both the drawing-rooms opened. The corridor was safe. The passage across the hall was dangerous. Unless Wilkins actually locked the ladies in, a door might be opened at any moment.
Lord Manton and Mr. Goddard went on tiptoe along the corridor. A voice reached them from the hall. It was Wilkins’ voice.